


Call Of The Sea

by Tangerine_ForgetMeNot



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmeRus - Freeform, Blood and Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, R&R, RusAme, Such as:, comments keep me going so don't hesitate to make one!, there will be chapter by chapter warnings, there's a lot of stuff in this fic that's kinda fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8743072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine_ForgetMeNot/pseuds/Tangerine_ForgetMeNot
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a 23-year-old marine biologist who is offered a position in an expedition to find and capture selkies. Alfred doesn’t believe in the mythological seal-people, but the pay is good enough that he can overlook that. However, he quickly learns that the sea holds many secrets, and that some legends hold more than just a grain of truth in them…





	1. Seal The Deal

It was a warm June afternoon when Alfred Jones stepped into the crumbling warehouse. The clammy air smelled of salt and rotting seaweed, and sent shivers crawling down his spine. He paused in the doorway, running a hand through his dark blonde hair, his bright blue eyes taking in the scene from behind a pair of glasses. He had come here to meet Captain James McAllister, the old seadog who ran a fishing company at Cape Cod. Everyone who knew the captain all agreed on one thing: he might be the smartest, most skilled fisherman around, but that didn’t cover up the fact that he was crazy—plain, flat-out crazy. Alfred wasn’t quite sure what that entailed, but he hoped it wasn’t it didn’t mean that agreeing to meet the captain was a mistake.

Alfred had first met Captain McAllister four months ago at the Cape. Alfred, who was on a school break at the time, had gone there to meet up with a few friends. The group had stopped at a bakery, and had begun to talk about their studies.

When Alfred had started telling them about his adventures as a student marine biologist, he'd felt someone tap on his shoulder, and turned around to see an old man staring at him intently. The man had thinning grey hair and a beard to match, and wore a weathered navy blue trench coat over a black wool shirt, and dark, salt-stained pants. The man had introduced himself in a voiced heavily accented with an Irish lilt, then had sat down in Alfred and his friends’ booth and began firing questions at him one after another: what’s your name, what school do you go to, how long have you been studying marine biology, etc. Once Alfred had answered all his questions, Captain McAllister had handed him a business card and offered him a temporary position in his crew for a “special expedition regarding certain sea life”. Without thinking, Alfred had accepted, and now he was here, at the place he had been told to meet with the captain to discuss the expedition in further detail.

“Are you coming in, or are you just here to test the doorframe?” came a voice from within the warehouse, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Yes, sorry. I’m coming in,” he said quickly. He took a deep breath, and slowly walked in. The warehouse was filled with rusty nautical equipment, empty beer bottles and other miscellaneous junk piled up over the place. The warehouse was lit with the flickering yellow glow of six bare lightbulbs that hung down from the ceiling. At the far end of the room stood an ancient wooden desk, around which sat five chairs. Four of them were already occupied.

Alfred strode over to the small group, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. As he neared them, one figure stood up—a man, a few inches shorter than Alfred, with snowy white hair and strange red eyes. He appeared to be no older than Alfred.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully, holding out his hand. “My name’s Gilbert Beilschmidt. I’m the head engineer of our crew. I’ve been working here since I was sixteen.” He spoke quickly and excitedly, and his voice had a very distinct German accent. Alfred reached out to shake his hand, when Gilbert grabbed it and shook it so hard he practically yanked it right off his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Gilbert!” came another voice, this one carrying the same Irish lilt that Captain McAllister had. “You don’t need to pull his arm off.”

“Sorry,” said Gilbert sheepishly, releasing Alfred’s hand. It flopped to his side limply, drawing a laugh from the others.

“Nice job,” said the man. “You just broke our only marine biologist.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Whatever.” The other stood up, revealing an aging man with salt-and-pepper hair and sun-roughed skin. “My name is Cameron. I’m the first mate of our crew. I’ve been working with Captain McAllister for twenty-seven years. If you have any questions about our excursion while we’re at sea, feel free to ask myself or any members of the crew, including Mister Jackson O’Neal,” he said, gesturing to a bald, middle-aged man who was sitting on a stack of plastic crates. “He’s the cook of our fine establishment.”

The cook nodded in greeting. Alfred nodded back, though he was unsure if that was the proper way to greet a cook.

“And I believe you’ve met Captain McAllister,” said Cameron, turning to the figure sitting behind the desk. The man in question stood up, and everyone immediately snapped to attention, delivering a crisp salute to the captain—everyone but Alfred, that is.

“At ease,” said the captain, then turned his attention to Alfred.

“Mister Alfred Jones,” rumbled Captain McAllister, fixing his piercing gaze on Alfred. “How nice of you to join us. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Alfred said. “There was, uh, really bad traffic—”

“Do not speak unless spoken to,” said the captain icily. “And when you speak to me, you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Captain’. Is that clear, Jones?”

“Y-yes sir,” Alfred stammered, shrinking back slightly.

“Good.” Captain McAllister turned his attention to the others. “You three are dismissed.”

Gilbert, Cameron, and Jackson all saluted and walked stiffly out of the warehouse. Alfred noticed that they were walking slightly faster than necessary.

“You may sit,” said the captain, gesturing to the seat that had remained empty. Alfred sat down quickly, not wanting to do anything that would upset the captain, especially now that they were alone.

“Now then,” Captain McAllister started, pulling a file and a pen out of his desk, “Your name is Alfred Frederick Jones, correct?”

“Yes sir,” said Alfred, wondering to himself why he needed to be asked about his own name.

“And you recently graduated from a four-year college with a degree in marine biology, yes?”

“Yes sir,” he repeated.

“How much do you know about seals, Mister Jones?”

“Wha—seals, sir?”

“Yes, Mister Jones,” said the captain, as if he were speaking to moron. “Seals. You know, the mammals that are taken around at zoos and trained to balance beach balls on their noses for anchov—”

“I know what seals are, sir.” As soon as the words popped out of his mouth, Alfred instantly regretted saying them. Captain McAllister’s eyes narrowed, and corners of his lips turned down. It felt as if all the oxygen in the warehouse had been sucked out of the room.

“Are you disrespecting me, Jones?” he growled.

“N-no, sir!” said Alfred, trying to cover up his mistake. “I just—that is, I took a whole three-month course on how to properly care for seals, and I think—”

“Perfect,” Captain McAllister interrupted, his anger vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He pulled a paper out of the file and scribbled something on it. When he was done, he looked back up at Alfred and asked, “How much do you know about sailing?”

“Um…” Alfred paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, I’m pretty sure that port is right and starboard is left.”

“Hm,” muttered the captain, and scribbled some more on his paper. “Well, we’ve already got a crew of experienced sailors, so that shouldn’t be a problem…”

He continued to mutter to himself as he wrote, until suddenly he stopped and looked Alfred straight in the eye. “The reason I have called you here, Mister Jones,” he said quietly, “is because I am on a mission to catch the rarest kind of seal-like creatures. One that has not been seen in centuries. One that has been reduced to a myth, but is in fact a part of our reality. I am speaking, Mister Jones, about selkies.” He paused. “Do you know what selkies are?”

“Selkies?” Alfred repeated. “I don’t… think so?”

“Well, that simply won’t do,” the old man chuckled. “First and foremost, selkies are known to disguise themselves as seals while in the ocean, but when they go on land, they transform into beings that look like men and women—very _attractive_ men and women, to be precise.” Captain McAllister was talking faster and faster as he continued, his excitement starting to pull the formality out of his words. “When selkies leave the water they wear their seal pelts wrapped ‘round them, but if the pelt’s taken away, they must stay with whoever has it whether they wan’ to or not. Naturally, this happens more often to females than males. In general, selkies are on the nicer side, though they do tend to be rather promiscuous with both themselves and humans. Also—”

“With all due respect, sir,” interrupted Alfred. “If selkies turn into seals in water and turn into people on land, how exactly would we know if any seal we caught, or any person wearing sealskin clothes, was a selkie?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said the captain, regaining his composure. “My colleagues and I have created a device that reads the energy levels of living beings. Magical creatures have much higher energy levels than non-magical ones, so any selkies we come across will be quite easily detected. Once we find one, it will be your job, as our resident seal expert, to make sure that our selkie is properly taken care of until we get it to whoever will give us the highest reward for our efforts.”

Alfred was quiet as he absorbed all this new information. After several minutes of thoughtful silence, he concluded that Captain McAllister was, without a doubt, absolutely crazy. Riding around in a boat trying to find a creature that didn’t exist—which was basically what the captain was proposing—was not exactly the way Alfred planned to spend his time. He’d be better off trying to scrape up a job at the local aquarium.

“I can see that you’re starting to have second thoughts,” murmured Captain McAllister. “However, I think I know how to convince you.” He pulled out an official-looking document out of the file and handed it to Alfred. “This is your contract,” he said. “It explains everything, including how long this trip will be, what you’ll need, what to expect from myself and the crew… and, of course, your paycheck, which is discussed down at the bottom.”

Alfred took the contract, skimming over the lengthy paragraphs until he reached the part about how much he would be paid. He read it, then read it twice more, just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. According to this contract, he would be paid $25,000 per week for an eight-week trip—that added up to a grand total of $200,000. Alfred’s jaw dropped. If this was real, he would be able to pay off his student loans by the end of the trip. Forget about the aquarium, this was exactly the kind of job he wanted!

“I’ll do it,” he said, looking back up at the captain.

The old man grinned, showing off two rows of pearly white teeth. “Good choice, Jones,” he said. “Now, all you have to do is sign the contract and it will be official.” Alfred took the pen and uncapped it, preparing to seal the deal, until he stopped.

“Actually,” he said, “Hold on a sec.”

The captain’s smile faltered as he asked, “What is it, Mister Jones?”

“It’s just, well…” Alfred frowned at the contract. “I just want to know, do I get paid week by week, or at the end of the trip?”

“All employees get paid at the end of the expedition,” stated Captain McAllister.

“Well, what happens if something, y’know, goes wrong?” Alfred asked tentatively.

“Nothing will go wrong, Mister Jones.”

“I’m not saying that it’s gonna happen,” he said, backpedalling slightly. “But if there were some hypothetical disaster—like, I dunno, the selkie biting my head off—do I still get paid?”

“If the selkie bites your head off, your family will be given your full pay to compensate for their loss,” the captain replied, a note of impatience creeping into his voice. Alfred nodded, but still did not sign the contract. He could feel the captain’s gaze burning holes in his head. The two froze, each waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, the older man’s patience gave out. “Jones,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Are you going to sign the bloody thing or not?!”

“Alright, alright, I’m signing it,” said Alfred as he scribbled his signature at the bottom of the contract. The captain immediately snatched it up and returned it to the file.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Jones,” he said, standing up. “Our expedition starts on July 15th, almost exactly three weeks from now. I expect to see you at the Nauset harbor at 7am sharp. My ship is the _Silver Seal_. She’s quite a large lady, the _Seal_ —you can't miss her. However, there’s going to be a smaller boat at the harbor to take pick you up and take you to our ship, as the _Silver Seal_  is a bit too big to dock in the harbor.”

Alfred nodded and stood up to leave, then paused, remembering how the others had waited for the captain to give the all-clear first.

Captain McAllister gave a nod of approval and said, “You are dismissed, Jones.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” crowed Alfred with an enthusiastic salute, and dashed out of the warehouse. He couldn’t wait to tell his family and friends about his new job.

The captain smiled as he watched Alfred leave. The young man seemed quite cocky—a mite too arrogant for his own good, as Cameron would say—but he would soon learn who was really in charge. Indeed, there was a lot he would have to learn if he was to survive the expedition.

 _All in good time_ , he thought to himself. _All in good time_.


	2. Last Day Ashore

Finally, after three long weeks of impatiently waiting, the day of departure arrived. Alfred was up by four in the morning—something he had sworn bitterly against since high school—and was on his third cup of coffee by 4:30. He would have woken up the rest of his family, but they had made him promise not to wake them up before five on threat of torture.

Alfred lived in a small seaside house in Plymouth, Massachusetts with his brother Matthew and their adoptive fathers, Arthur and Francis Kirkland-Bonnefoy. Though he was often asked why he chose to live with his family instead of his own apartment, the truth was that Alfred had really missed his family when he went to California for college—that, and bills are a bitch.

Alfred and Matthew were pretty much identical in looks—the only real differences were that Matthew’s hair went down to his shoulders and his eyes were tinted purple—but the two were very different in personality. Matthew was much more calm, quiet and level-headed than his twin. While Alfred had gone to study marine biology, his brother majored in psychology, and was training to become a therapist. But despite their differences, the two were as close as siblings could be.

Arthur and Francis were another thing altogether. Arthur often gave off the impression of being a stereotypical grumpy, tea-loving Briton who couldn’t cook an edible meal to save his life. However, those who were close to him knew Arthur as a smart man and a caring father, with a caustic sense of humor that was sure to make anyone laugh. Francis, on the other hand, was a cheerful Frenchman who was openly passionate about theatre, painting and culinary arts. He was usually the one to drag Arthur out of the house to go shopping or take a romantic walk by the seashore. The two agreed on a lot of things, but disagreed on even more. They were almost always arguing about this and that; why they had decided to get married was a mystery to most.

Alfred stared at the clock, watching it the shorter hand slowly drag itself across the clock face until it reached the five. A few quick, coffee-powered leaps up the stairs later he burst into his brother’s room, yelling, “Wake up, Mattie! We have to go to Nauset!”

Matthew let out a low grunt, but didn’t move.

“Not today, mister!” Alfred said with a grin as he yanked off his brother’s blankets. “Come on! You promised you’d see me off the dock!”

Matthew gave a heavy sigh and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“You gotta go faster than that,” said Alfred. “Get up! We need to leave in an hour!”

“Alright, alright, you don’t need to shout,” he replied with a yawn, dragging himself off the bed and stumbling over to his dresser.

“Okay, making progress. Awesome,” said Alfred. “I’m gonna go wake up Dad and Papa.”

“Good luck,” Matthew muttered, but Alfred was already gone.

He raced down to the end of the hallway to their fathers’ bedroom, throwing the door open and opening his mouth to give another wakeup call—only to find both men sitting up in bed, yawning and rubbing their eyes.

“You’re up already?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course we’re up,” grumbled Arthur. “We heard you yelling in Matthew’s room like a bloody rooster.” He squinted at the clock on his bedside table. “And why do we need to get up so early?” he demanded. “You’re supposed to be there at seven, right?”

“Sorry about that,” said Alfred. “But you guys take so long to get ready in the morning that I figured I should wake you up extra early.”

Arthur sighed, but got out of bed without further complaint. Francis followed suit, saying, “I’m going to take a shower first.”

“Oh no you’re not,” said Arthur. “Your showers alone are going to make us late. You can take one later. I’m taking a shower now.”

 _Oh boy, here we go again_ , Alfred thought.

“But _mon cher_ , you could easily take half an hour with the way you insist on meticulously scrubbing every single inch of your body,” Francis replied as he started walking toward the small master bathroom.

“That’s called personal hygiene,” Arthur retorted. “And get out of there! I said I was going to shower now!”

“I said it first,” said Francis, who had already started to strip. “Of course, we could take a shower together, if you want—”

“You’re wasting time by arguing!” Alfred broke in. “Take a shower or don’t, I don’t care, but I can’t be late for this!”

“You heard him, frog,” said Arthur, though there was no real bite to it, only morning grumpiness. “Get out of the bathroom!”

“ _Non_ , I will not!”

Alfred threw up his hands in defeat and marched out of the room, leaving the pair to sort it out themselves. He went back downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Matthew standing at the stove.

“Pancakes?” he asked hopefully.

“What else?” Matthew replied. “I’m making your favorite: chocolate chip with maple syrup and strawberries.”

“Fuck yeah!” Alfred cheered. He quickly grabbed plates, silverware and the syrup bottle and brought them to the dining room. After setting the table, he sat down and began describing the trip to Matthew for the umpteenth time.

“It’s gonna be so cool!” he started. “An eight-week-long round-trip from Nauset to Kilronan Harbor in Ireland, and then we’re gonna go the rest of the way around Ireland and come back. I can’t wait!”

Matthew listened to his brother describe the trip as he had done many times before, until he interrupted him by asking, “Al, is it true that Captain McAllister is… you know… not all there?”

“Oh yeah,” said Alfred. “That guy is one crazy motherfucker. He thinks he’s gonna catch some magical seal-person and sell it to whoever’s willing to pay the most for it!” He laughed. “I just hope he doesn’t make me put on a seal tail and try to sell me to a zoo or something.”

“But you don’t think he’d actually do that, right?” said Matthew hesitantly.

“Nah, I don’t think he’s _that_ far gone—but then again, I’ve only met the guy twice, so who knows?”

Matthew didn’t say anything. Alfred could tell that he was thinking about all the things that could go wrong over the span of eight weeks.

“I’ll be fine, Mattie,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll just be on a boat with some super wealthy nutjob for two months, go to Ireland, and then come home and pay off my student loans.”

“I know, I know,” his brother said quietly. “But there’s something about him that I don’t like. The way you described him… I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about this.”

Alfred looked at him, then shook his head in mock disbelief. “Man, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he laughed. “I feel so much better now that you’re sure I’m gonna die.”

“I didn’t say that!” Matthew began. “I just—”

“Are the pancakes done yet?”

Matthew sighed at the aversion. “Almost.”

About ten minutes later Arthur and Francis came downstairs, both having managed to shower without beheading each other. All four of them sat down at the table, Matthew carrying a heavy platter of pancakes in one hand and a bowl of cut strawberries in the other, and the family began to eat.

“Alfred, have you checked your bags?” Arthur asked. “Is there anything you need, anything you might have forgotten?”

“Nope,” Alfred replied around a mouthful of pancakes. “I’ve double- triple- and quadruple-checked. I’ve got everything.”

“Are you sure there's nothing else you need?” Francis asked.

“Absolutely. I packed it all up last night.”

Arthur muttered something about always waiting until the last minute, sparking a short argument that, thankfully, gave way to more casual conversation that lasted for the rest of the meal. Breakfast was finished just before six, and after stuffing Alfred’s luggage into the trunk of their car, the four piled in and headed off into the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
> Mon cher = my dear (French)  
> Non = no (French)
> 
>  
> 
> So, we meet the family! Next chapter (whenever that comes out) will begin Alfred's life aboard the Silver Seal. There's gonna be some more characters introduced, a few hints dropped about what's in store, and in the following chapter we're gonna meet Ivan. Stay tuned!


	3. All Aboard

“Right on time, Jones,” came the booming voice of Cameron from the dock. He strode over to Alfred, who was walking with his family down the rows, looking for the boat that would take him to the Silver Seal. At hearing Cameron’s voice, Alfred waved to the man and jogged over, luggage in tow.

“You ready for the expedition, lad?” Cameron asked. He was carrying a clipboard and a pencil, and at his hip was a walkie talkie.

“You bet!” Alfred said with a grin. “I packed everything that was on the list you sent me.”

“Excellent, excellent,” said the older man, clapping Alfred on the back so hard he nearly sent him sprawling. “Captain McAllister will certainly be glad t’ hear that.”

Alfred nodded, trying hide how much of the wind had been knocked out of him, and asked, “So, where’s the _Silver Seal?_ ” He scanned the docks, looking for some sort of yacht.

“The _Seal?_ Why, she’s righ’ over there,” Cameron replied, making a grand, sweeping gesture behind him. Alfred looked in the direction Cameron was pointing and gasped.

The _Silver Seal_ was one of the biggest ships he had ever seen. Even in the distance it towered over them, hiding them from the light of the rising sun. As Alfred looked down the length of the ship, his astonishment only grew. It seemed to go on and on and on, a nearly endless wall of white, topped with two rows of tinted windows that reflected the water below. The ship had two decks—the top deck was smaller, with two cranes sticking up into the air like spindly arms, while the bottom deck was busy with cargo, equipment, and crew. Above the top deck was the bridge, its curved span of windows gilded with rays of sunlight, while the roof of the bridge was covered with a tangle of antennae and satellite dishes. The words ‘Silver Seal’ were painted in huge, gray cursive lettering that was edged with metallic silver paint. Alfred suddenly felt very, very small.

“That’s it?” he said. “A… a cruise ship?”

“Aye, that she is,” Cameron replied. “She was built a cruise ship, but she’s no pleasure boat. She had t’ be gutted and remodeled inside in order t’ meet our needs. Originally, we tried a bunch o’ different tankers—we went through a Panamax, New Panamax, Aframax, even a ULCV—but none of ’em were really what we needed. In the end, Captain McAllister bought the _Silver Seal_ and repurposed her for selkie huntin’.” Like Captain McAllister, Alfred noticed that Cameron’s accent became a lot stronger when he wasn’t being serious and professional, as he had been during the interview.

While Arthur, Francis and Matthew asked Cameron about the _Silver Seal_ , Alfred briefly wondered what Captain McAllister and his crew could possibly be carrying that would require such an enormous ship. In the end, he decided not to ask. He’d probably find out anyway, since he would be on the ship for the next eight weeks.

“So… I guess this is it, then,” he said softly.

“Looks like it,” Matthew agreed.

Alfred turned back to his brother and fathers. For the first time, it really hit him that he wasn’t going to see any them for a long time. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, tightening his grip on his luggage. Suddenly he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and pull him into a tight hug. A moment later he dropped his bags and returned the hug, holding his twin in a tight embrace. After another moment passed, both Arthur and Francis joined them.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

“O-of course you will,” said Arthur. “Tell us everything that happens—I want all the details, understand?” Alfred nodded, and started to pull away from the hug, but before he could let them go he felt Arthur slip something about the size of a silver dollar into his pocket and hug him slightly tighter.

“It’s a ward,” he said in a low voice. “To protect you from harm.”

“Dad,” Alfred sighed, “I’m a big boy now. I don’t need your magic charms anymore. That’s what life vests are for.”

Arthur, unlike his son, was a staunch believer of magic. Everywhere he went, he saw faeries and sprites that only he could see, and often talked to them when he thought no one else was listening. Occasionally, he could be found drawing sigils around the house or reading aloud from a grimoire about twice as old as himself and nearly as heavy. Although Alfred thought magic in general was ridiculous, he had more or less accepted that there were just things his father did. But right then, as he stood mere moments away from what would surely be the greatest adventure of his life, he was not in the mood for dealing with his father’s eccentricities.

“I know you think it’s silly,” said Arthur, “I know you’re grown up and you can take care of yourself… Even if you don’t want this ward, just… please, keep it for my sake. Just to make me feel better.”

It was the slight tremble in Arthur’s voice that broke down the last of Alfred’s resistance. As subtle as it was, it betrayed how unsure the man was about releasing his son into the world, how he would do anything to keep his family safe from all possible harm, no matter how strange his methods may seem. Alfred, for all his disbelief in magic, simply didn’t have the heart to refuse. So he accepted the ward and the kiss on the cheek that came with it, and finally stepped back to get one last good look at his family.

“I’ve packed you some snacks for the trip,” said Francis. “So if you find the ship’s food unbearable, you won’t go hungry.”

“You won’ have t’ worry about that,” said Cameron with a smile. “We’ve got an expert cook, as well as a cook-in-training who knows a lotta good Italian recipes. Yer son won’ starve on this trip.” 

Francis nodded in approval, then turned back to Alfred and whispered, “If anything interesting happens over the next eight weeks, you will let me know, won’t you?”

“Oh, come _on_ , Papa!” Alfred said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “The most exciting thing that’s gonna happen is I might get eaten by a whale.”

“You say that now, but you haven’t even met the crew,” he returned with a wink. “Who knows what will happen? Perhaps you’ll meet someone you like.”

Alfred let out a groan and covered his reddening face with his hands.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” Francis laughed, planting a kiss on his son’s head. “Stay safe, _mon petit chou. Je t’aime_.”

Alfred grumbled some unintelligible complaint, giving his family one last hug before turning back to face Cameron. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting ya,” said Cameron, addressing Arthur, Francis, and Matthew, “But I’m afraid we’ll have t’ be on our way. You all set, Jones?”

“Sure am,” Alfred replied shakily.

“Good lad. Step righ’ this way, th’ boat’s over there. And don’ bother with yer bags, there’s a crewman that’ll take ’em on another boat an’ deliver ’em straight to yer room while I give you a tour of the _Silver Seal_.” He pointed farther down the dock, where a little white motorboat sat expectantly. Alfred nodded, barely taking in this information. He was really leaving. No more goodbyes or well wishes—no going back. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and followed Cameron down the dock and into the waiting boat.

• • • • • • •

The trip across the harbor was short, and within fifteen minutes the little motorboat had pulled up to the side of the waiting ship. Alfred and Cameron sat in the back seat, while the driver—a very tall, brawny man by the name of Ludwig—took them there. Alfred spent about half the ride trying to strike up a conversation with Ludwig, but the man’s one-word answers, combined with the constant drone of the motor, made it impossible. After a while of this he finally gave up, contenting himself to watching the waves jump and skip by. They went around the back of the _Silver Seal_ , passing by a pair of motors each nearly the size of their own boat, before Ludwig cut the motor and drifted them over to line up with the cruise ship.

Alfred had felt small back on the dock, looking at the _Silver Seal_ from a distance. That was nothing compared to how utterly miniscule he felt now, with this behemoth just a few yards away. He was struck by how immaculate the paint was—the paint looked fresh and had no cracks or flakes, and there wasn’t a cluster of barnacles or clump of seaweed to be seen. There were two rows of portholes studding the side of the ship, but they were too high up to see into them.

“Alrigh’, now listen up,” said Cameron, standing up. “Six big cords with hooks on the end are gonna come down from up there,”—he pointed up to deck, which, from their angle, they couldn’t actually see—“and we’ll attach ’em to these hooks on the boat,”—he pointed to the bow, stern, and sides where oversized eye hooks had been drilled in—“and once I secure ’em, I’m gonna whistle to the lads up there and they’ll lift us up. Any questions?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Alfred said. “So what you’re saying is, this boat is gonna be picked up _with us in it_ , and take us up there?”

“That is correct,” said Ludwig as he gently steered the little boat to keep it aligned.

“But… why?” he asked. “Why would you go to all this trouble to take a smaller boat to get to a bigger boat? Can’t you just find a harbor with deeper water to dock at?”

“The captain has ordered us to board this way,” Cameron replied.

“Seriously?”

“His orders are our commands,” was his answer. “That goes for myself an’ the rest of the crew, including _you_. When you get an order, ya best hop to it—no questions, no objections. Understand, Jones?”

Alfred didn’t reply. He was staring at the massive hull of the _Silver Seal_ , only half-listening to the older man. How did they manage to pull this motorboat out of the water and onto the ship without pulling the hooks out of the boat? And for that matter, what would happen if the hooks _did_ get pulled out? Would it be one at a time, or would they all come loose at the same time? How high up would they get before that happened? What if—

_“Jones!”_

“What?”

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yeah, I gotcha,” he said. “What captain says, goes.”

“You gotta start payin’ attention, lad,” said Cameron. “On this ship, we got no time fer slackers. Yer gonna be up from dawn til dusk, maybe longer if we get a catch a selkie. You need t’ be at attention at all times.”

“Even when I’m asleep?”

“Watch it, Jones,” the older man warned, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Here come the hooks,” Ludwig broke in. They all looked up to see a crane jutting out from up on the deck lowering down six metal hooks, each the size of Alfred’s outstretched hand. As soon as they were within reaching distance, Cameron and Ludwig immediately set to work, pulling them down and attaching them to the eye hooks on the boat. Alfred tried to follow suit, but ended up just fumbling around with the unwieldy hunk of metal until Ludwig yanked it out of his hand and attached it properly. Alfred stood there for a moment, unsure what to do, then just sat down in embarrassed silence and waited for the others to finish.

A minute later, after all the hooks were secured, Cameron gave a nod to Ludwig, who returned to his seat at the wheel. The older man then put his fingers to his lips and whistled one loud, piercing note, and immediately took his seat. The motorboat lurched forward, then slowly began to rise up into the air.

Alfred felt his stomach twist into a knot. They were already a good six feet above the water, and rising steadily. If he wanted, he could still jump, but the distance to the shore was too far for him to swim.

He felt the weight of Arthur's ward in his pocket, and felt oddly glad that he had it with him.

_No going back._

He sucked in one last deep breath, fingers digging into the leather seat, and looked up to face whatever was waiting for them on the deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
> Mon petit =  
> Mon petit chou = my little cream puff (French)  
> J'taime = I love you (French)
> 
>  
> 
> GodDAMN that took a long time. Sorry about the wait for the second half of the chapter, folks. I didn't mean for it to take that long. I changed a lot of things in this chapter—mostly small things, but still. I even changed the chapter title.  
> Also, I added a little reference to my early readers about all the times I changed what type of ship the Silver Seal is... I promise this is the last time I change it. Promise.  
> ALSO, I updated the tags since I realized there were a few important things that were missing. 
> 
> Hopefully I won't end up re-uploading chapters in the future, but knowing me, I can almost guarantee that it will probably happen at least once more. I swear I'm not trying to piss you off—it's just that I almost never have a beta reader, and that means I catch a lot of mistakes or get new ideas *after* publishing a chapter ( > \- < )


	4. Setting Sail

It took almost ten minutes for the motorboat, and the three men sitting in it, to be lifted from the water all the way up to the top deck. As they passed over the lower deck, they got a very good view of what was going on below them. Alfred stared out at the sprawling lower level, on which at least a hundred crew members were at work, carrying all kinds of supplies and equipment from one place to another. Giant metal shipping containers lined the deck in rows, each container looming over the people rushing in, out, and around them. With the vast deck below him and the glimmering sea spreading out in all directions, Alfred felt like he was flying.

The feeling soon passed, however, as the motorboat was brought up over the edge of the top deck and he, Cameron, and Ludwig were escorted onto the actual ship. Cameron and Ludwig jumped out of the boat with practiced ease—Alfred, on the other hand, tripped over the gunwale and tumbled headfirst over the side with a squeaky yelp. He was saved from face planting the deck by Ludwig, who caught him in midair and pulled him up onto his feet without batting an eye.

“Watch yer step there, Jones!” came a familiar voice from across the deck. “We don’ need ya to crack yer head open on day one!”

Alfred’s face flushed all the way to his ears when he saw none other than Captain McAllister striding over to them.

 _So much for a good first impression,_ he thought, forcing a smile as he tried to brush off his embarrassment. He hadn’t even been on the _Silver Seal_ for one minute and he already looked like a total klutz. It didn’t help that the three crewmen trailing behind the captain looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh.

“Don’t worry about me, sir,” said Alfred. “I was just testing Ludwig’s reflexes.” He nudged Ludwig with his elbow to accentuate his point, ignoring the other man’s death glare. His reply made the crewmen burst out laughing, and even Cameron and Captain McAllister let out a chuckle.

“Good t’ see you’ve got a good sense o’ humor,” said the captain. “Let’s see how long you can keep it.”

Alfred nodded, unsure what to say to that. Luckily, he was saved from an awkward silence when Cameron announced that it was time to start the tour of the _Silver Seal_ , and gestured for Alfred to join the captain and three crewmen. Alfred did as asked, but Ludwig didn’t follow, explaining that he had some duties to attend to. With that, the groups parted ways.

The tour ended up being a lot longer than Alfred had anticipated. They started at the bridge, where all the navigation and communication was done. Next came the top deck, which housed all the accounting offices, two conference rooms, the Captain’s quarters, and several luxury suites for the occasional guest of honor. After that was the lower deck, with the dining hall and several recreation rooms, including two pools and a hot tub. Then was the top floor of the hull, which held the crew’s quarters, lots of storage rooms for all kinds of equipment, another rec room, more accounting offices, another conference room, and at that point Alfred gave up on trying to make a mental map of the place.

The second floor of the hull proved to be much more interesting than all the previous areas of the _Silver Seal_ combined. The captain waved off the three crewmen that had been with them, leaving only himself, Alfred, and Cameron. Alfred was about to ask why they’d been sent away when he noticed the door in front of them, and the question died on his lips. 

The door was extremely heavy-duty, made from what appeared to be very thick reinforced steel, and was secured with several electronically controlled lock mechanisms that could only be released by entering a code into a keypad next to it. All in all, it was the most formidable door Alfred had ever seen, which only made him even more curious about what lay behind it.

“This is where you’ll be takin’ care of any and all selkies we catch,” said Captain McAllister.

“What’s with the door?" he asked. “It’s so… big.”

“That it is,” Cameron said. “A few years ago there was an incident—”

“It’s a long story, too long to talk about right now,” the captain interrupted.

“Yes, well,” he continued, “Suffice it to say, the door wasn’ strong enough before, so we made sure t’ reinforce it this time ’round. Now then, shall we have a look inside?”

“Yes, we shall.” It was impossible to miss the coldness in Captain McAllister’s voice, nor the weighted silence that followed. Clearly something was going on between the two men, and Alfred had a feeling he was better off not asking about it. Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and gripped the ward tightly in his hand.

But then the tension was gone, and Captain McAllister reached out and punched in the code, which, to Alfred’s surprise, didn’t release the locks, but rather opened up a small panel in the wall that contained a deadbolt lock.

 _This thing needs a keypad and a regular key?_ Alfred thought. _What’s next, a saliva test? What the hell happened that made them put all this on_ one _door?_

“We’ll hafta get you a key an’ give you the code so you can get in yerself,” said Cameron. “But there’ll be time for that later. Righ’ now, you just take a peek in here an’ check out all the equipment we got for ya. Don’ worry about memorizing what everything does just yet; you can start on that tomorrow.”

The handprint scanner let out a low _beep_ and flashed green, followed by a slight shudder as all the locks released and the door swung open automatically.

Alfred stepped into the room, and the first thing he noticed was how much _stuff_ was in it. One one wall there were shelves stacked with neat rows of beakers and flasks, a number of monitors whose purpose Alfred could only guess at, along with a whole slew of electronic equipment that spread out across the room, about half of which he’d never seen before. On the wall opposite the door there were several large shelves of medical supplies, including syringes, bandages, rubbing alcohol, bottles of various sizes, shapes, and colors, three portable defibrillators, and even what appeared to be an alarmingly large box of morphine tablets.

At the center of it all was a gigantic tank, about ten feet tall and fifteen feet wide, its transparent walls forming a topless box that was half filled with water. On one side was a door made of the same material as the rest of the tank, except for the rubber sealant on all sides of it, and just below the door was a large, flat bank made of some faux-rock material that stuck up out of the water.

“Is that where we’re keeping the selkie?” Alfred asked.

“That’s correct,” said Captain McAllister, a distinct note of pride in his voice. “This room was by far the most expensive t’ redo. Between the tank itself an’ all the other equipment we need, this room alone cost over twelve million dollars.”

“Wha—twelve _million_?” Alfred repeated, almost gagging on the word.

“Twelve million,” the captain confirmed. “We need absolutely everything t’ be state o’ the art. I won’ be caring for such an incredibly rare species with outdated trash.”

Alfred nodded silently. He suddenly felt like a child in a glassware store—clumsy, out of place, and one step away from breaking something very expensive. He slowly wandered over to the tank until he was only a foot away, and was surprised to discover that the bottom of the tank extended another ten feet below the floor.

“There’s an observation level righ’ below us,” said Cameron. “That way we can see everything that goes on below.” He gestured to a staircase right beside the tank that lead downward.

The observation level was a dim, with the only source of light being the soft blue glow of the tank. The lights automatically flicked on when they were halfway down the stairs—motion activated, no doubt—and Alfred saw more monitors and other equipment around the perimeter of the room, though far less than on the upper level. He could see the bottom of the tank now, and discovered that it was covered with a mixture of gravel and rocks. At the corner of the tank nearest to him he saw a large filter peeking out from under the gravel, a flurry of tiny bubbles rising up from between the pebbles.

There wasn’t much else to the observation level, so after a quick two-minute introduction the three men went back upstairs and resumed the tour. Alfred zoned out in about ten minutes, and it wasn’t until he was standing outside his room in the crew’s quarters that he came back to reality.

Cameron grabbed the walkie-talkie from his hip and said something not quite distinguishable, then turned to the others and said, “The boys up top are havin’ a bit o’ trouble with th’ last shipment. I gotta go help ’em out. See you at lunch, Jones.” He saluted to the captain, who gave him a nod, and then he was gone.

Alfred glanced down at his watch, and was surprised to see that it was already 11:45. Now that lunch had been mentioned, he realized he was famished.

“Now that you’ve had a look around, I expect you must have some questions,” said Captain McAllister, turning back to Alfred.

“Uh…” Alfred thought for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I have a lot of questions. When we were at the containment room, I was wondering, where’s everyone else? ’Cause I can’t be the only one in that room. I mean, I don’t even know what half the stuff in there does.”

“It’ll mostly be just you in that room,” said the captain. “Of course we have technicians, but they won’ be staying with us for most of the trip. They’ll help you figure out what all the equipment does so you can operate ’em yourself.”

“I—wait—hang on a second,” he sputtered. “Look, I appreciate that you think so highly of me, but there is just no way I can possibly—”

“Jones.” Captain McAllister stared him right in the eye, his expression one of utmost seriousness. “I’ve spent the last thirty-five years of my life pursuing one o’ the most elusive creatures in the sea. I’ve gotten close several times. I know exactly what I need to catch an’ contain a selkie.”

“But how am I supposed to do that if I don’t even know what I’m doing?” he asked, trying not to sound as frustrated and confused as he felt.

“You can figure it out.”

“But sir—”

“Let me rephrase that. You _will_ figure it out.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You will.” His tone was casual, but the message was crystal clear— _you will figure it out, or else._

The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and a walkie-talkie, which he offered to Alfred. “These are yours,” he said. “Feel free t’ wash up or read a book, or take a nap if it pleases you. Lunch is in fifteen minutes, so don’ be late.”

Alfred took both items and turned to the door, then quickly turned back and saluted. Captain McAllister nodded approvingly, and with that, he left Alfred standing there, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his gut that joining this expedition had been a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... about nine and a half months, to be specific. I'm really sorry about the wait. I was struggling with how to write this chapter, then I took a hiatus over the summer, then I got a bad case of writer's block, and THEN I wrote Alone With The Moon. But now I'm back, and I have decided that I will upload a chapter every month. If I don't upload a chapter during the month and first week of the next month, feel free to write an angry comment demanding a new chapter. Sometimes I need to get my ass kicked a little to get me going (please don't be too harsh though, I am but a poor, sensitive writer and I have feelings). 
> 
> I know that some of you are probably disappointed that Ivan didn't show up after such a long wait... But don't worry! He'll be making his debut very soon, I promise.


	5. The Greatest Catch

The first half of the expedition was fairly smooth sailing. Alfred spent his days learning the ups and downs of all the equipment in the containment room, guided by the technicians, Elizaveta Héderváry and Roderich Edelstein. He got a hang of the material pretty quickly, even the more complicated machinery, and Elizaveta even said that Alfred was one of the fastest learners she’d ever seen. This had greatly surprised him, considering that he had barely scraped by with a passing grade on most of his final exams.

After four weeks Elizaveta and Roderich deemed Alfred well-versed with the equipment, and a few days later they were sent home. How exactly they were sent home was never fully explained to Alfred, who suddenly found himself quite alone with all the whirring and beeping machines in the containment room.

Then on week five, as he was cleaning the water filter, Alfred was suddenly called up to the lower deck by Cameron.

“Jones!” he yelled through the crackle of the walkie-talkie. “You need to get to the crane on the first deck right now!”

“Why? What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s—bloody hell—just get up here now!”

Alfred leapt up from where he was sitting and ran over to the door, slamming the bright green button on the wall open-handed, and was out before it had time to fully open. He sprinted down the halls he had long since memorized, going up the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the first deck he was completely out of breath, so he slowed to a jog as he approached the crane. The whole crew seemed to be there, crowding around the crane in a giant mob.

“Excuse me—sorry—” He pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the front so he could see what he’d been called up for. Once he finally got to the inner edge of the crowd, he was suddenly aware of the weighted silence that smothered the crew, all eyes fixed on the titanium cord as it was drawn up. A soft murmuring rose up as it began to shake violently, but no one dared to speak louder than a whisper. The ship itself seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.

Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty. The shaking became steadily stronger, traveling up the cord to the jib of the crane until it began to sway back and forth. Some of the crewmen glanced around nervously, while others started backing away. Alfred stood frozen in place. Part of him wanted to run away, run all the way back across the Atlantic ocean to his family—and yet, another part urged him to run towards the net, to witness with his own two eyes what creature was struggling so hard to escape its prison of wire mesh.

Slowly, slowly, the net was raised over the gunwale, and in between the spaces in the mesh Alfred could see a thrashing, shifting mass of dark speckled gray and silver. He stared, trying to figure out what this mysterious creature was, but it was difficult to tell with the way it was struggling so desperately to escape. Then he saw it—a flipper. He recognized it immediately as the front flipper of a seal—a leopard seal, by the pattern of its pelt. But how could that be? Leopard seals lived in the Antarctic, almost 10,000 miles south of where they were. How could one get lost this far north?

And then, for the briefest flash of an instant, he saw its eyes, and the questions circling in his mind immediately lost all importance. They were human eyes, yet they were unlike any he had ever seen. They were a brilliant shade of violet, like two perfect amethysts, and held in them a depth as vast as the sea. In the instant he saw those eyes he felt as if he could see right through them, right into this creature’s soul. What he saw in those eyes was fear—no, it was more than just fear. Those eyes held mortal terror so tangible it made his blood run cold and his heart leap into his throat.

Then the instant was over, and Alfred suddenly became aware of the chaos that was surrounding him. Some of the crewmen were jumping up and down, a few burst into song, while a handful tried in vain to bring order to the situation—and absolutely everyone was shouting at the top of their voices. The net was lowered to the ground, and four men immediately swarmed over it, some untangling and unwrapping the net while others held down the seal to keep it from escaping. One of them took out a tranquilizer from his pocket and injected it into its side, and in less than a minute it had gone completely still.

“At last,” came a breathy sigh from behind him. Alfred whirled around to see Captain McAllister standing there, his eyes transfixed on the limp body now only half-covered by the net. There was a short bubble of silence in the midst of the chaos, and when the captain spoke again, his voice had an almost dreamy quality to it.

“I’ve spent my whole life chasin’ selkies,” he said. “Ever since I was a wee lad I knew they were out there. No one believed me, o’ course, but that didn’ stop me. And now, after a lifetime of searching… now I’ve finally got the greatest catch of all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years everyone! The whole month of December was kind of insane, what with all the end-of-the-quarter tests, quizzes, and projects, but somehow I found time to put this together. 
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Now that Ivan has been introduced, the pace is going to be picking up quite a bit, so brace yourselves!


	6. A Man in Seal's Clothing

The selkie was quickly brought down to the containment room, carried in a stretcher designed for carrying marine mammals. Meanwhile, Alfred was sent ahead of them to prepare the materials needed to run the baseline tests. It took several hours to complete these tests, and they were by far the most surreal hours of Alfred’s life.

When it was delivered to the containment room, he grabbed a tablet to start writing down observations, turned around, and nearly dropped it. The seal had vanished, replaced by an unconscious man wrapped in a seal pelt. The man was tall, with silver hair and pale skin that was littered with scars. He was on the heavier side, but underneath the soft layers of fat were rock hard muscles easily capable of snapping Alfred in two. For some reason, the thought of it made him blush.

He shook his head. Now was not the time for such distracting thoughts.

After taking some pictures and writing down a detailed description of the man’s appearance, Alfred, with some help from the crewmen that brought him in, performed a quick physical examination to check for any obvious signs of injury or illness. This did include temporarily removing the pelt, and cleared up any doubt in his mind that the selkie before him was, in fact, male. The results of the physical showed that he was an adult and seemed to be healthy—and with that, Alfred covered the man with the pelt again, trying not to show his discomfort.

The captain also demanded measurements of selkie in seal form, which took some figuring out. Eventually they decided to take him into the tank and slowly lower him in water until he changed forms, while trying to keep his head above water; this point turned out to be when the water reached the base of his neck.

The transformation itself happened so quickly it was almost imperceptible; once the selkie reached that specific point of submersion, his pelt seemed to merge with his flesh, and in a fraction of a second the man was replaced by the seal from earlier. At this point Alfred had already convinced himself that this was just a very vivid dream, and barely reacted while the other crewmen gasped and pointed.

Measuring the selkie’s seal form length was fairly easy, but from there it only got trickier; they had to take pictures and measure his weight very fast, as he turned back into a human less than a minute after being taken out of the water. In addition, it was extremely difficult to get a good read of his vitals, since most of the tests took several minutes to administer, and none of the equipment was waterproof. After several long minutes of brainstorming, one of the crewmen pointed out that he had healthy vitals in human form, so they could probably assume that it carried over to his seal form.

The crewmen put the selkie back on the platform and removed the equipment from the tank while Alfred jotted down a few more notes, finalized his report, and headed up to the captain’s office.

“D’you have the report?” Captain McAllister asked the second Alfred entered the room. The normally immaculate office was in complete disarray; the large mahogany desk was piled high with loose leaf paper, the lamp that sat on top of it was now on the floor, and the captain seemed to be talking into two cell phones at once, both of which he presently dropped into his pockets as he turned his attention to Alfred.

“Yes sir,” said Alfred with an exhausted salute.

“Alrigh’, now tell me everything!” the captain demanded, practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Don’ leave anything out!”

“It appears to be an adult male,” he began, “Six feet three inches, weighs 236 pounds—as a human, I mean. In seal form he’s ten feet eight inches long, weighs 860 pounds. He seems to be pretty healthy; normal heart rate, breathing, body temperature, and everything else as far as we know. Based on the size, fur pattern, and mouth shape of the pelt, this guy seems to be a leopard seal, but I have no idea how he made it all the way up here from the Antarctic—”

“Did ya see it transform?” the captain interjected.

“I think so, yeah.”

“What d’you mean, ‘I think so’?” the man practically yelled, making Alfred jump. “Either ya saw it or ya didn’! Now tell me, _did you see it transform?”_

“I did see it! I mean, sort of—it just happened so fast—” said Alfred, slowly backing away from the man like one backing up from an angry bear.

At that moment, one of the phones in Captain McAllister’s pockets rang. The captain pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and said, “I gotta take this. Yer dismissed.” Just like that, his tone went back to calm, almost casual.

“Y-yes sir,” Alfred stammered, not even bothering to salute before he speed-walked back out of the office as fast as he could, breaking into a run that carried him all the way to his room.

He collapsed onto the bed, his heart pounding in his chest—and not just from the run. As soon as he got his breath back he began to run through a list of all the events that had happened that day, trying to piece together exactly what the hell was going on.

First, he had woken up, gotten dressed, and went down to the dining hall for breakfast. That was normal. He’d done that every day for the past five weeks.

Second, he had gone down to the containment room and checked to make sure everything still worked, as instructed by Captain McAllister. That was also normal—just another thing he did every day.

Third, he had taken out the water filter from the tank to clean it out. Once again, business as usual. Although it only really needed to be cleaned once every four weeks, Captain McAllister insisted that every week was much better, so Alfred did it every Saturday.

Fourth, he had gotten a call from Cameron on his walkie-talkie to come up to the first deck. That was when things started getting weird. He often came up for lunch and spent a few hours helping out the other crewmen before going back to the containment room, but he had never gotten such an urgent call before.

Fifth, he had gone up to the first deck to find a huge crowd surrounding the crane, which was reeling in the net. That had only happened once before, but it came up empty, and only a few people had been watching it. But this time there was something in the net. That was highly unusual.

Sixth, the thing in the net was a leopard seal. This made no sense at all, since leopard seals never migrate farther than subantarctic islands. He still couldn’t figure out how one had gotten lost by over ten thousand miles.

Seventh, the seal turned out to be a selkie. And actual, real-life, honest-to-god selkie. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Selkies weren’t real. They couldn’t be. It was ridiculous. Insane, even. This had to be some kind of lucid dream or something.

Alfred pinched his arm hard, and winced. This was real alright.

He took a deep breath and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He should probably check on the selkie to see if it had woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is my birthday! I've already gotten some wonderful presents, so now I will give all of you the gift of another chapter! I hope you like it :)


	7. Who Are You?

The selkie was not awake when Alfred returned to the containment room. Whatever tranquilizer had been used hadn’t just knocked him out—it knocked him _out._ During that time Alfred fiddled around with the equipment, finished cleaning the water filter, and tried to find other ways to make himself useful. But every few seconds he felt his eyes drawn toward the sleeping man in the tank. There was something almost magnetic about it, the way his eyes kept turning to look at this man. What was it that Captain McAllister had said about selkies?

 _When they go on land, they transform into beings that look like men and women—very_ attractive _men and women, to be precise._

Huh. Interesting.

Alfred had known that he was bisexual for several years, but he’d never seen himself getting the hots for a seal-man. Not that he was. At all. That would be ridiculous—almost as ridiculous as the fact that this creature existed. Still, there was no denying that the selkie was very handsome. Now that he wasn’t surrounded by frantic crewment and trying to write a report for the captain as fast as possible, Alfred was able to look a bit closer at him, and noticed all kinds of little details he hadn’t seen before.

He had a strong jaw, and a faint stubble of a beard on his face. His nose was blunt and a bit on the larger side, but it fit his face well. He also had long, dark lashes framing his closed eyes—those eyes, the likes of which he had never seen before. As he continued to stare, Alfred also took in the scars on the selkie’s body. They were all over him—slashes on his stomach, bite marks on his arms and legs, and four or five overlapping ones that cut right over his heart. But the most striking part was his neck, which was ringed with thin, puckered lines of pink. These scars, Alfred noticed, were also on his pelt in the corresponding areas.

Another thing he saw was the catgut choker with a double hook-shaped pendant that appeared to be made of bone. The tips of the double hook were bright red, and seemed to reflect light in an unusual way, though Alfred couldn’t quite place what made it seem unusual. He had noticed this piece of jewelry before, but he hadn’t really paid attention to it, since he was more focused on taking the selkie’s measurements. But now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen it when the selkie was in seal form. How could he have a choker that fit snugly around his neck in human form, but not have one at all in seal form?

 _Maybe I’ll ask him when he wakes up,_ Alfred thought. _If he even speaks English_.

He glanced down at his watch to find that it was already three in the afternoon, and he hadn’t had lunch yet. He started to get up, then paused, considering his options. The selkie was still asleep, and he had no idea how long that would last. It could be a few minutes, it could be the rest of the day. If he left for lunch now—and he would have to be out for all of it, since food was strictly forbidden from leaving the dining hall—the selkie might wake up while he was gone. Then again, if he passed out here, who knew what might happen?

After about a minute of careful consideration, Alfred decided that it would be smarter to get food. Besides, the selkie was locked up in the tank, so there was no way he could get out. Satisfied with this thought, Alfred speed-walked up to the dining hall, promising himself that he’d be back in ten minutes.

“Hey, Feli!” he called. “It’s me, Alfred. Are ya busy? I need some food, stat!”

“Give me one minute, I’ll be right out!” replied a voice from the kitchen.

“You got it, man!” Alfred said, leaning against the wall.

The dining hall was set up like a real restaurant, with rows and rows of tables that lead up to a buffet-like area right in front of the kitchen. The crew ate meals in shifts, partly because there wasn’t enough room for everyone to eat at one time, and partly because there always needed to be people running the ship. The only ones who didn’t eat in the dining hall were Captain McAllister and Cameron, who took their meals in the captain’s private quarters.

Suddenly the kitchen doors swung open, and out stepped a short Italian man with auburn hair and freckles. It was Feliciano, the cook’s new assistant. He had joined the crew about a month before Alfred, making him one of the newest members. It had taken over a week after Alfred joined before the two exchanged any words, but once they met, Alfred immediately liked his cheerful disposition and colorful stories about life in Italy. But right now, he was more focused on the steaming plate of food in his hands. A heavenly smell was wafting from it, making his mouth water.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked, trying not to stare too hungrily.

“Gnocchi with pesto,” Feliciano said. “I kept it warm for you since I know you missed lunch earlier.”

“Holy shit, how did you know that’s exactly what I was in the mood for?” he said as he took the plate. “Is that, like, some kind of Italian sixth sense or something?”

“You say that every time I give you food,” Feliciano laughed.

Alfred didn’t reply. He was too busy shoveling the pasta into his mouth as fast as possible, ignoring Feliciano’s warnings that doing so would make him sick.

“I’d love to stick around and chat, but I gotta go back to work,” he said, handing back the plate.

“Oh, that’s right! You caught a selkie, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually,” said Alfred. “I still can’t believe it.”

“That’s so exciting!” said Feliciano. “What does it look like? Can it talk? Does it speak English? Or Italian, perhaps? Maybe I could translate if—”

“Look, I promise I’ll tell you all about it later, but I really have to go,” he said, half pleading, as he tried to escape.

After an eternity and a half he was finally able to run back to the containment room, having well outstayed his ten-minute time limit. Even though he kept telling himself that there was no need to hurry, he still felt a sense of urgency that pushed him to go as fast as his legs could carry him. When he reached the containment room he paused, hands on his knees, panting, then looked up.

Two bright violet eyes looked back.

Alfred froze, still bent over from trying to catch his breath. The selkie continued to stare, eyes wide, as if to ask, _Who are you?_ It pressed its hands flat against the glass wall of the tank, glancing around, then turned back to face Alfred. _Where am I?_

Alfred stood up, careful not to make any sudden moves, and walked over to the tank until he was right in front of the selkie, which was kneeling on the platform.

“My name is Alfred,” he said, crouching so he was eye level with the selkie. “Do you understand?”

The selkie cocked his head.

“My name is Alfred,” he repeated, more slowly this time. “Do you understand?”

He continued to stare at Alfred, his expression appearing to be one of curiosity.

“Hold on… you can’t hear me, can you?” Alfred said, remembering the foot-thick panels of acrylic that made up the walls of the tank. He walked over to the door of the tank and stepped inside.

The selkie backed up several feet, one arm raised defensively.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, showing his empty hands. The selkie didn’t move a muscle.

“My name is Alfred,” he said. “Do you understand?”

The selkie did not respond.

 _Maybe I need to dumb it down a bit_ , he thought.

“Alfred,” he said, pointing to himself.

The next thing he knew he was flat on his back, all the air forced out of his lungs from the impact. The selkie was on top of him, pinning him to the ground, a low growl issuing from deep in its chest. When Alfred tried to push him off, he pulled a knife from his waist and pressed it against his throat. He immediately stopped struggling.

Then, before he even had time to wonder where the selkie got a knife in the first place, he did something even more unexpected: he leaned down and began sniffing Alfred’s hair. Alfred held his breath, afraid that even the slightest movement could provoke it. The sniffing continued down his neck, over his chest, and, to Alfred’s relief, stopped just as it was going a little too far south for comfort.

But the inspection wasn’t over yet. Now the selkie began poking around at Alfred’s clothes, pulling at his shirt and pants. He even yanked off one of his shoes, turning it over and over in his hands like an archaeologist trying to puzzle out the use of some ancient, mysterious artifact. Then he tossed the shoe over his shoulder and made a grab for Alfred’s socked foot.

Alfred quickly pulled his foot back, knowing that if the selkie tried to inspect his foot he would get a tickle-induced kick to the face, which would definitely end worse for him. The selkie, however, was not so easily dissuaded. He grabbed him by the ankle and lifted his foot high in the air, and began to slowly peel away his Batman-themed sock. He gave the item a quick sniff, wrinkled his nose, and threw it into the water.

“Hey!” said Alfred. “That’s my sock!”

The selkie dropped his foot and let out another growl, baring his teeth. That shut him up.

 _What the hell is happening?_ he thought, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. At this point he knew this was not a dream, but he almost wished it was.  

The inspection had one final part to it—one that was so bizarre and so out of left field that it made everything else seem normal. The selkie walked around behind Alfred and pushed him up into a sitting position, making sure he stayed upright. Then his lifted up his shirt and laid his hands flat against his back, right over his shoulder blades, and pressed down hard.

A sudden electric shock slammed into Alfred’s body, searing his nerves and overwhelming his senses like a bolt of lightning. He jumped straight into the air with a sharp cry and landed on his hands and knees, trembling in every limb.

“What—the fuck—” he gasped. “What the _fuck?”_

He stayed like that for a while, waiting for his heart to stop pounding in his temples. When it finally did, he slowly turned around to face the selkie. They locked eyes, burning violet clashing with terrified blue.

It was impossible to say how long they stayed that way. It could have been a minute, an hour, a year. But in that time, something passed between them—an unspoken understanding that something had _happened_ , something beyond words, beyond comprehension. Then the selkie slipped into the water, and the moment passed.

Alfred reached behind him and took his shoe, still trying to wrap his head around what he had just experienced. He got up on shaky legs and walked back over to the door of the tank. This was way more than he had signed for. Well, sure, he’d signed up to take care of a selkie, but it wasn’t supposed to actually happen. Was he in the Twilight Zone? It sure felt like it.

 _Next thing you know, they’ll find sirens hanging out in the Boston Harbor,_ he thought with a grim smirk.

Just as he was closing the door, something hit him in the back of the head with a wet _splat_. He reached back and grabbed his sock, now thoroughly soaked with salt water.

“Thanks, asshole,” he muttered. “I really appreciate it.”

He could already tell these next few weeks were going to be lots of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy I totally missed having this chapter up in February....... sorry about that. Life, man, it just gets too fucking busy sometimes. I hope you will accept this chapter now, late as it is.


	8. Dinner Time

Alfred had never been as popular as he was that night at dinner. Everyone in the dining hall crowded around his table, listening to him describe the selkie and its antics. The other crewmen that had brought down the selkie added in a few details here and there, but all eyes were on Alfred—after all, he was supposed to be the expert. The crowd gasped as he recounted being held at knifepoint, and roared with laughter at his description of being hit with the wet sock. At the end of the meal many followed him out, peppering him with questions until they were called back to their duties. However, he didn’t tell anyone about the electric shock. For some reason, he felt like he should keep that particular detail to himself. 

While dinner with the crew was fun, giving the selkie dinner was considerably less so. Alfred carried in a raw fillet of salmon, freshly caught that day, but the selkie turned up his nose at it. He tried to offer it in a number of increasingly creative ways, but the selkie was having none of it. 

Finally Alfred let out a sigh of exasperation and yelled, “Fine! Go hungry! See what I care!” and stomped out of the tank with the fish. 

He was just about to grab the door handle to leave when he stopped. 

“Wait a second.”

He turned around to face the selkie, who was glaring at him through the clear acrylic wall of the tank.

“You’re a hunter,” he said slowly. “You catch fish wild and just eat them like that, don’t you? You probably don’t know what a fish fillet is.”

It was so obvious he could’ve smacked himself, but both of his hands were dripping with fish oil, so he didn’t. Instead, he walked back into the tank, this time with a triumphant grin on his face. 

“Alright, how should I do this?” he wondered aloud, considering his options. He stood there for several minutes, trying to think of the best way to go about this. But however many different methods he thought of, there was really only one way to do it that the selkie would have any real chance of understanding.

Alfred let out another sigh, this time one of resignation. 

_ It’s just like sushi, _ he told himself.  _ No big deal. I’ve eaten plenty of sushi before. This is just like that, but really big. _

He locked eyes with the selkie, who watched him warily out of the corner of his eyes. Alfred flashed him his best million-dollar smile, and, with only a second’s hesitation, sank his teeth into the salmon’s fatty flesh. 

The slimy, slippery texture, combined with the bite that was much larger than intended, made it very hard to swallow—he had to stifle his gag reflex several times before he managed to choke it down. Once he managed this, he held out the fish to the selkie, who continued to regard it with suspicion. 

After a few long moments, the selkie reached out and tore off a small piece, gave it a quick sniff, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, like a chef sampling an exotic dish. Then he took the fish out of Alfred’s hands and began inspecting it, poking the meat here and there. 

“There’s no bones,” Alfred said. “They all got taken out.”

The selkie gave the fish one last sniff, then, without warning, he began tearing into it with the speed and enthusiasm of a starvation victim. 

“There, see? Not so bad,” Alfred laughed. He left the tank, washed his hands, and decided to take some notes on the selkie’s eating habits. The selkie ate the fish in large bites, skin and all, and swallowed them whole without chewing. 

He checked his watch and, to his surprise, found that it was almost 9:30. The day had gone by in the blink of an eye. 

“Well, I’m gonna hit the hay,” he said, addressing the selkie. “Don’t break anything or try to escape, okay?” 

The selkie was licking his hands clean, ignoring Alfred completely. 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, he finished his notes and left, reached for the light switch, paused, and turned off all but the tank lights, just in case the selkie was afraid of the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy sorry this chapter is so short, I'm kinda-sorta dying rn. I got school projects, finals right around the corner, and my school play performances start in two days. Next chapter will be a lot more interesting though, I promise!
> 
> ((I may the chapter title, I just slapped this one on cause I wanted to get this uploaded on time))


	9. Hello, My Name Is...

_A trickle of water dripped down beside Alfred, forming a small puddle beside him. At least, he thought it was a small puddle. It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Where was he?_

_The trickle turned into a stream, and he could feel the water slowly rising to his toes. He tried to take a step back, but his feet were anchored in place._

_There was a loud crack, and the stream became a deluge, the sound of rushing water filling his ears and drowning out everything else, even his own heartbeat._

_The water lapped at his ankles. It was cold, so cold it hurt. He reached out, trying to find something, some ledge to climb up on, but there was nothing. The water continued to fill the space, rising up past his knees, then his waist. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he would surely drown._

_The water was at his chest now._

_“Is anyone there?” he called. “I’m stuck and I can’t get out!”_

_The water continued relentlessly, and now it was almost at his neck._

_“Please, somebody help me!” he cried. “Anybody!” But the thunderous crash of the water was so loud he couldn’t even hear his own voice._

_Alfred desperately tried to swim, but his feet would not respond, remaining firmly planted on the ground as if held there by some unknown force. He tilted his face up, gasping for air as the water finally closed over his head—_

“JONES!”

Someone was roughly shaking him awake. He looked up and saw it was Cameron, soaking wet and red in the face.

“Get up, you stupid git!” the man yelled. “Are ya deaf or somethin’? I’ve been yellin’ at ya t’ get up for ten fuckin’ minutes!”

“Whasshappening?”

“We’re caught in a fuckin’ hurricane, that’s what!” Cameron shouted. “It just came outta fuckin’ nowhere! Now get down there and make sure the selkie is secure— _fucking shit!”_ The ship gave a violent jolt and threw him off his feet, dumping him in a heap on the floor. He pulled himself up, cursing a blue streak, then stumbled as the ship rocked the other way, only just managing to keep his balance this time.

“Stop sittin’ there gawkin’ like a goose and get to it!” he barked, and with that he stormed out of the room.

Alfred stared after him for a moment, trying to process what had just happened, when the ship gave another shuddering lurch, nearly pitching him out of bed. Then understanding finally hit him, and he scrambled to put on his clothes and get down to the containment room as fast as possible.

As he ran down the halls he passed a long glass wall, and through it saw crewmen struggling to bring in the equipment that was on the deck and tie down what they couldn’t. Then he looked up past the edge of the bow and gasped.

He had never seen an actual hurricane in person, only the relatively minor storms that blew up to Plymouth. But now twenty-five-foot waves threw themselves against the side of the ship in an attempt to capsize it, and the rain came down in steely sheets. And there, off in the distance, the hurricane itself—a twisting, churning column of water that reached up to the sky, grasping and pulling in clouds that darkened with each passing minute. To be within eyesight of such a powerful storm was extremely dangerous at best.

It called to him.

Staring at the hurricane, he fell into an almost hypnotic state. He slowly walked forward, undisturbed by the violent rocking of the ship, and reached out—but his hands were met with cold glass. He pushed against it; the window did not budge. At that moment his whole body stiffened, and he was seized with claustrophobia.

 _I have to get out of here,_ he thought. _I have to get out_ now.

He pulled back his hand and balled it into a fist, ready to start pounding at the window to escape—

A bone-jarring _CRACK_ split the air and Alfred jumped back, every hair on his neck standing straight up. A bolt of lightning had struck the water right beside the ship. The crewmen on deck, who were barely holding together through the wind and waves, fell into a panic as thunder exploded overhead, many dropping their equipment and sprinting for the doors.

With this terrifying wake up call, Alfred remembered that he had a job to do. He ran as fast as he could to the containment room, pausing every other minute to rebalance as the rocking of the ship worsened. He threw open the door and the first thing he saw was shattered glass everywhere. A whole shelf of beakers had fallen and smashed on the floor, and the flasks above were about to be next. He tried as many as he could and set them on the floor, but he still lost a few in the process. Thankfully the more expensive equipment was either built into the walls or securely mounted on, so he didn’t need to worry about saving those.

Then he turned his attention to the selkie, who had wedged himself into the corner of the tank and was cowering under his pelt. The tank water was sloshing around like a miniature version of what was happening outside.

This time Alfred didn’t need any deep pondering to figure out what to do. He ran down to the observation level and made a beeline for the tank’s water supply control panel, which was made much quicker when the ship took stomach-turning dive and threw him against the wall beside it. A loud crash came from upstairs as something else fell and broke, but Alfred was so focused on getting the control panel key from a ring of keys for other equipment that he barely heard it. Eventually he found it, jammed it into the keyhole, turned it, and threw the panel door open. There, right in the middle, was a giant red button labeled ‘DRAIN’. He slammed the button as hard as he could.

There was a loud _chu-chunk_ of heavy machinery moving, and the pump that sucked seawater up into the tank shut down, while the pump that released old water back out to the ocean worked double time. Alfred ran back upstairs and watched the water level slowly lower until it was no longer splashing the selkie—about a third of the way down—and ran down again and hit the drain button again, stopping the pumps altogether. He returned back upstairs, holding the railing with both hands in a white-knuckle grip.

He opened the tank door and was met with a horrible wailing sound. It was coming from the selkie, who was still curled up in a ball beneath his pelt. Alfred took two steps toward him, then dropped to his hands and knees as the ship leaned into a wave and almost threw him off the platform. He crawled forward slowly, carefully, until he was an arm’s length away from the selkie.

Alfred reached out and gently touched his shoulder. The wailing stopped and the selkie flinched away, and for a second Alfred caught a glimpse of tear-stained cheeks and puffy, red eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

The selkie didn’t react further, only letting out a small whimper as the ship gave another shuddering lurch back. Alfred sat down beside him and once again put his hand on the selkie’s shoulder, but this time he didn’t pull back when the selkie did.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he repeated. “Look, I know this must be really scary for you. You got caught in a net, tranqed, woke up here, and now things are falling and everything is shaking and you don’t know what’s going on. I mean, I know what’s going on, and I’m scared, too.”

He could feel the selkie trembling under his hand, could feel the goosebumps that covered his skin. This was progress, he decided. The selkie wasn’t threatening to stab him anymore, and seemed to finally understand that he wasn’t a threat. He scooted a bit closer, keenly aware of the way those violet eyes were tracking his movements. They stayed that way for a long while, listening to the water splash around below and feeling the ship rock back and forth. Slowly, so slowly as to be almost imperceptible, the selkie began to lean into Alfred’s touch. Alfred stayed silent, not wanting to scare him away, but didn’t suppress the smile that pulled at his cheeks. Now _this_ was progress.

Moving at the same cautious pace, he slid his arm around the selkie’s back so he was holding him in a half-embrace, one that the selkie could easily break free of if he chose to. He didn’t, but instead pressed against Alfred’s side.

The minutes ticked by, and at some point Alfred realized he could feel the weight of the selkie’s head on his shoulder. He looked from the corner of his eyes, not daring to turn his head, and saw that the selkie’s eyes were closed. Alfred’s mind went totally blank. Giddiness fluttered around in his chest like a nervous bird in a cage and, coupled with the swaying of the ship under him, made him feel like he was floating. He had actually managed to earn the selkie’s trust. How, he had no idea, but he wasn’t one to question miracles like this.

Alfred’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t had breakfast. He ignored it. This was way more important than food.

The selkie’s breathing had evened out, and was now accompanied by a soft rumbling sound… wait, was that snoring? Alfred slowly turned to look and, to his astonishment, found that the selkie had fallen asleep.

 _Poor guy_ , he thought. _He probably didn’t sleep much with all that water splashing around_.

As soon as he thought this, he felt the weight of sleep pulling on his eyelids. He shifted into a more comfortable position and let his eyes close, figuring that if the selkie were tricking him into falling asleep in order to kill him, at least he wouldn’t have to worry his student debt anymore.

• • • • • •

Alfred opened his eyes and blinked, squinting against the bright lights of the containment room. He looked around, disoriented, until he remembered where he was. Something tugged on the sleeve of his flannel jacket, and he looked to see the selkie, now awake, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. As soon as he saw Alfred was awake he let go, looking away like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You can touch my jacket if you want,” Alfred said.

The selkie didn’t respond, nor did he reach for the jacket sleeve again.

“...Or don’t. That’s fine too.”

Clearly the selkie didn’t understand English, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Feli’s suggestion of Italian wouldn’t work either. He didn’t know ASL, so that was out—though even if he did, the chances that the selkie would also know it were very slim at best. Alfred frowned, racking his brain for solutions.

With all those options discarded, that left only one other language he knew: Goídelc. It was the oldest known form of Gaelic, and he’d been taught to speak it at a young age by Arthur, who sometimes needed multiple people speaking the ancient language to perform spells. It had started out with simple phrases, building up in quantity and complexity until he was basically fluent. If there was any language the selkie would have a real chance at knowing, it had to be Goídelc.

Alfred sighed. “Well, here goes nothing.” He cleared his throat, turned to face the selkie, and said, “ _Mo ainm attá Alfred.”_

The selkie whipped his head around, eyes wide with surprise, and responded in perfect Goídelc, “I didn’t think you could talk.”

“I—you—of course I can talk!” Alfred spluttered. “I thought _you_ were the one who couldn’t talk.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You didn’t say anything until just now,” Alfred said defensively. “You just tried to kill me and then took off my sock and threw it in the water.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” said the selkie. “If I was, you would already be dead.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” he replied.

“You’re welcome.”

Alfred’s head was spinning, unable to process what has happening. Here he was, sitting in a giant tank on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, talking to a creature that didn’t exist in a language that hadn’t been spoken in millennia. It didn’t seem possible—and yet it was not only possible, but it was happening _right now_.

“So… um…” He fumbled for something to say. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you,” said the selkie. “How rude of me. My name is Ivan.”

“Ivan,” Alfred repeated. “Cool name. I’m Alfred.”

“I know,” said Ivan. “You already told me.”

“Right. Yeah. I was just making sure you knew.” His cheeks flushed, and he shut his mouth before any more embarrassing things could come out. Ivan cocked his head, staring at Alfred curiously.

“Where is your pelt?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your pelt,” said Ivan. “Where is it?”

“I don’t have one,” said Alfred.

“You don’t have one? Are you sure?” Ivan leaned over, scanning the room through the acrylic panels of the tank.

“I’m pretty sure,” he replied. “Wouldn’t I know if I had one?”

Ivan stopped. “Yes, I suppose you would.” He returned his gaze to Alfred. “I’m sorry if I scared you before,” he said. “I was told that humans are cruel and vicious, and that they like to torture other creatures for their amusement. I thought you were going to do that to me.”

“No way, dude,” said Alfred. “Humans aren’t like that at all—I mean, some are, but only a few.”

Ivan nodded. “What do humans think of selkies?”

“Well…” Alfred paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “The thing is… most humans don’t think selkies exist. I’d never even heard of them until about two months ago.”

“That’s good,” said Ivan. “We don’t want you to know we exist. Humans are dangerous, especially with your big machines. We know you can kill thousands of your own in a very short time, and since there are so many more humans than selkies, you could kill all of us if you wanted—if you could find us, that is.” There was a slight hint of pride in his voice as he said those last few words.

“If humans are so dangerous, then why are you telling me this?” asked Alfred.

“Because you won’t tell anyone,” Ivan returned.

Alfred was about to make a smart reply when he heard his walkie-talkie let out a faint crackle. He pulled it from his pocket and turned up the volume.

 _“Captain to Jones,”_ came a voice. _“Are you there?”_

“Yes sir, I’m here,” said Alfred, switching seamlessly back to English.

 _“Answer me when I fucking call you,”_ said Captain McAllister. _“I was about to come down there and see if you were still alive.”_

“Sorry, the battery died,” he lied. “But you should still come down here. Turns out the selkie can talk.”

 _“The selkie can talk? Are you serious?”_ Alfred could practically see the captain’s face shifting from pissed to excited.

“Yeah, but… Well, it’s complicated. I’ll explain it when you get here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
> Mo ainm attá = My name is (Goídelc)
> 
>  
> 
> Wow, this took a while, haha.... My life has been super busy lately, and between final projects and final exams, I've barely had the time or energy to write. But I'm back now, and school is pretty much over for the year (thank god) so I'll hopefully be able to put out chapters on time more. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> In the other news, I'm pretty sure this fic is gonna be the death of me. Finding the phrase "mo ainm attá" took me over half an hour and six different websites, and I have no idea if it's even right—not to mention all the headaches I've gotten from the hours spent researching leopard seals, tanker/cruise ships, how to make giant a saltwater aquarium, and everything else. But you know what they say—write what you know. And if that means doing over 10 hours of research so you know more things, so be it.


	10. UPDATE

I am going on hiatus for the summer. That means no new chapters for July and August. I've been thinking for a while about whether or not I should do this, but my summer job is really demanding and I don't have much motivation to write. Don't worry, though—I'm not stopping the story here. Just putting it on pause for a little while.

See you in September!


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